God, I’ve got a nose to pick with you.
Are you listening to my angry prayer?
A few fucks in front of the altar?
It’s not like you’ve never heard me swear.

My reverent heresy is born from
The institution blindly followed.
To commit their violence in your name
Fed on half-truths, easily swallowed.

Shared with Tanka Tuesday – oxymoron but mine is just a nine-syllable quatrain. I got my challenges mixed up.